A Painted Face
by Devilbladed
Summary: The Trial of Titan should've been a success. It was one where it mattered the most, but it still felt like a disaster. Gladio knew why that was, but there was no point in him telling the truth if no one believed him. That Ardyn wasn't to be trusted was obvious, but there was something- no, everything - wrong with Prompto. Gladio x Prompto. Smut in Chapter 1 Only. Alt Timeline.
1. A Demand

**Author's Note:** Yet another offshoot of the main project in the works. The idea for this one popped in my head on Valentine's Day, though it's not very sweet _or _fluffy. Again, this is one chapter out of two. Think of it like Episode Ignis, with a V1 and V2 route.

_Kink warnings_ for xenophilia, cockwarming, bare-backing, biting, humiliation, sadism and masochism, dacryphilia, post-orgasm torture, very light bondage, implied breath-play, and rough sex in general.

* * *

The Trial of Titan should've been a success. It _was _one where it mattered the most. Noctis earned Titan's blessing fair and square, despite the interference on the part of Niflheim sending its Magitek troopers to fell the Landforger before he could do that. By all means, they should have been congratulating each other on a job well done, especially Noct.

But it still _felt _like an unmitigated disaster, and Gladio knew damn well why, but the last time he said anything about the _problem_, he had a Silence spell lobbed at him and couldn't speak the entire goddamn Trial, so maybe this time he wouldn't open his mouth. Not just yet, and _not _when he'd gotten the spell lifted a short time ago. He'd wait and watch.

He'd watch, even when his annoyance reached the point where it burrowed into the backs of his eyeballs.

None of this added up to anything positive. Didn't anyone else see it? Ardyn following them around, offering them help, showing up in the nick of time _to _help them.

No… of course they didn't. They couldn't entertain anything _negative _about the particular _problem. _They thought what they wanted to about _Ardyn_, sure, yeah, they agreed he was up to no good and couldn't be trusted. That was easy, he was a stranger.

But…

Prompto was a fucking issue. In fact, he was _the_ fucking issue.

Gladio's blood was set aboil from the mere recollection of the others' reactions. The sheer _stubbornness _of their denials when he voiced his concerns in the caravan they spent the night in, halfway on the trip to the Disc.

'_You are __**not **__suggesting that Prompto is the weak link in our group,'_ Ignis said.

_'Prompto __**is**__ sincere, maybe to a fault … but he's loyal to Lucis and to Insomnia. ... He's honest about that, and he's our friend. Ardyn wouldn't get anything more from him than what he'd learn from looking at us_,' was Noct's opinion.

They were hopeful. _Too_ hopeful. And that's exactly what a guy like Prompto would count on.

Prompto, who _somehow _obtained the approval of Cor the Immortal, and got into the Crownsguard despite his common birth and lack of extensive training. Who claimed his parents 'just weren't around' but still managed to get signed consent from _someone_ to get into any place that mattered. Who befriended Noctis despite the Prince's generally withdrawn nature that had turned everyone else away.

Prompto, who Ardyn took such a liking to, it bordered on unreal. Who followed Ardyn _all the way to his car_ before he remembered he left the others behind. Who _defended _Ardyn when the others had their own words to say about the guy. Who told Ardyn where they were headed when they all wanted to avoid _exactly that._ Who had the nerve to leave his friends in the Regalia and instead sit in the passenger seat of _Ardyn's _car with probably nothing else pushing him but the spite pumping in his veins.

_That _Prompto.

That he wound up learning Ardyn was the Chancellor before the others got to hear it didn't change jack shit. There was something **wrong** with him. Especially with what he pulled right at the gate. A "_very good friend_," Ardyn called him. Yeah, Gladio would bet. Sitting on that creep's lap and making out with him was a surefire way to get _something _of his up, if not his opinion. Prompto could keep saying that was 'just an act'. Looked too convincing for that.

To think, that Gladio himself had considered Prompto's actions before that to have a sound reason. The guy came off earnest, and a bit of a magnet, with a cross between schoolboy charm and bad boy looks that should've been absurd but _worked _somehow in his favor. Considering the others' clear hostilities toward Ardyn, and that they thought him a suspicious stranger, it would be easy for said stranger to gravitate to Prompto, seeing none of the negativity in him. The young man was trusting, and he'd _be_ trusted in turn.

Gladio had thought Prompto was doing that to wheedle what he could out of Ardyn, like a four-man Good Cop/Bad Cop routine. Now that he lined up all the other details, truly looked at them, he realized his error.

And he couldn't get that kiss out of his head. The way Prompto _clung_ to Ardyn, and-

_No_. That didn't matter so much anymore. He was too focused on what he saw and not what it _meant_.

The way those two had pulled that off, the guards in charge of the gate to Titan didn't get a good look at Prompto's face. They barely got to check his hair color, considering he was wearing Ardyn's hat. But they could tell who the three chumps in the fancy black car were just fine. That _very good friend, _though?Free of real scrutiny and the little red dot of a laser sight roaming his chest, thanks so much.

Infuriating, that the others didn't see how obvious this was, but then again, they were close… and still managed to fall short of the real point. Maybe that was just how well Prompto had them wrapped around his finger. Hooked them with his puppy dog eyes and his constant _whining_. He was hungry, he was tired, he was sleepy, he felt dirty and needed a shower, his feet hurt, he wanted to sleep in a bed and not in a tent… funny, how all those complaints straight up _vanished _around Ardyn, and Ardyn paid for that caravan without ever hearing a word from Prompto about how much he hated camping. He must have known beforehand.

He must have known. Because that, and the way he proposed that he and Prompto share the same bed- that Prompto _agreed _to that without a single objection- couldn't have been coincidence.

In material space, Gladio was aware that he'd inhaled sharply through his nose and rubbed at his eyes as if they were tired. But no one paid it any mind. They'd made it to the rest area at Taelpar, and parked the Regalia at the motel. They would rent out some rooms at Three Z's for the night.

When they all got their keys, Ignis and Noctis decided they wouldn't go in just yet. They opted instead to take advantage of what bits of sunlight were still afforded them to make an inventory check and get any supplies that they lacked, then refine or replace their weapons. Ignis in particular would go through the next day's itinerary, and he'd spend more than enough time being thorough and leaving no potential paths unconsidered. And, maybe, he'd have a bit of space in there for Noct's whims.

A good enough opportunity as any to do all that, Gladio figured, but he spotted Prompto about to tag along and invite himself into the conversation already underway (the _usual _ploy for attention, now that he thought about it). He put his hand on the blond's shoulder. "Not this time. I wanna talk to you."

Prompto looked down at his shoulder, then at Gladio, then shrugged that hand away and moved to keep walking towards the others.

Gladio answered back with a firmer grip, a dig of his fingers into the shoulder, this time. "Didn't you hear what I said?"

That grip was strong enough to stop the blond in his tracks and even pulled him back a little, but again he looked down as if such a thing were only a minor inconvenience.

"Didn't you get the hint I'm _ignoring_ you, or should I ignore you _harder?_" Prompto asked. His world blurred for that brief second he was spun around, and Gladio's fingers were twisting up his collar. He should have felt threatened. Should have been scared. Instead he cast an impassive glance at the shirt bunched up in that massive fist.

"Mmm…? You really think this is a good idea, Gladio? Let's not make a scene."

"You're right, let's not," the Shield growled, and shoved Prompto away. The gunner didn't lose his balance like he would have if others were watching, and the smile on his face was too snakelike to fit him and yet exactly like him. He walked toward their room, didn't make a sound, didn't suggest that anything was amiss.

He moved like he had everything under control, and it pissed Gladio off even more.

Prompto was barely in the room before Gladio came in after and shut the door, and the swordsman followed that by the quick-cast of Silence on the door and walls.

Incantations weren't really his style, though they gave the spell more power and a sharper focus. A quick-cast could hit a wider area at the cost of power, and regardless, it still reached into the concept at the core of the spell itself; in Silence's case, it was _'soundproofing'. _A Silenced person couldn't talk, but their footsteps would still give them away if they approached. A Silenced room would muffle any noise in it, and keep attention away.

When the spell finished its sweep, Gladio turned his full attention to Prompto.

"Didn't think we needed all _that _to even start talking," Prompto said, such a put-on softness to his voice that it was cloying.

"We do. And whatever the fuck it is you think you're doing, it needs to stop."

Prompto tilted his head to address him. "What, you're not strong enough to stop me yourself?"

His fingers clamped around Prompto's throat before he even registered that he'd crossed the distance to do exactly that.

The little bastard had the nerve to expose _more _of his neck in response. "Not helping your case any, buddy."

"I'm not your buddy, you little shit. You're working for _him_, aren't you?"

"And if I am?" Prompto batted his eyelashes. "What's the big deal about that?"

"You _know _what the deal is!"

"No… you're gonna have to explain it to me."

If Gladio held on any tighter, Prompto wouldn't be conscious to hear anything, much less an explanation. He relented, but only for that.

"Ardyn sent you to spy on us. Fed you information to tell us so we don't suspect anything, while you kept him updated on our whereabouts. That's how he knows where we are all the time. Gets anywhere before we do. Do I have that right so far? I wanna hear the answer from you, before I decide it best to _beat_ _it_ out of you."

"Mmm… I can see why you'd think that..." Prompto's voice came slick as an oil spill and ten times as noxious.

"You gonna give me a straight answer, or not?" Gladio's voice in turn was a hurricane waiting to make landfall.

"Depends on what more you ask."

With every step Gladio took towards Prompto, Prompto took one back, keeping the distance between them even until he felt his back press against the wall, their bodies flush against each other. Again, the blond _should have_ felt the chill of fear, but he instead looked like he awaited something interesting, hadn't gotten it yet, not even with the rage that simmered behind the swordsman's eyes.

"You're a spy for Ardyn," Gladio started again. "Were your _parents_ in on that? If they were even real?" Seemed right to ask if this traitor had any support anywhere, the answer could suggest how long he'd been doing this for.

Prompto took a glance down and to the left, and just as quick was his response. "They were real, but they weren't... part of this."

It would be easy to believe that _that _was the reason the younger man had consistently told them all that he didn't have anyone to go home to after school, that his parents were busy with work. Anyone that absent in their kid's life couldn't be expected to know what their kid did. Then again, a traitor like this having a heart? What good would it do him protecting two people while he was selling out the entire world's future?

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I'd expect you wouldn't be asking me anything at all if you thought I was lying to start with."

He wouldn't concede to that aloud, but continued his visual search for anything to suggest with finality that Prompto wasn't lying. For a moment, he entertained asking more about those parents. About how Prompto felt about the fact that they didn't survive the fall of Insomnia, after all that effort their son put in to protect them. He wanted to see if there was any spark of humanity left in those hollowed eyes.

But whether or not they were alive, it wouldn't change the fact that Prompto was working with an enemy of Lucis. He was doing that, even now. And Gladio needed to know why and for what.

"You're here to stop Noctis from getting the blessings of the Six, then?"

"If he's _lucky, _then yeah."

"And if he's not?"

"Then it wouldn't be _me_ stopping him, now would it?"

Prompto couldn't be human. Not with the way he _giggled _when the Shield's fingers dug into his hair and the back of his head met the wall just behind him. "Mm, struck a nerve there, didn't I…"

"Cut the bullshit. You know exactly what you're doing."

"And you don't!" came the happy little announcement. "That's how I can keep giving you all these answers without you understanding a damn word. I mean, come on, Gladio, use that brain of yours… how _would _Noct get all of the Six on his side, anyway? Keep count here…

"The Glacian was killed by the Empire. The Infernian died in the Great War ages ago. That's two down. Noct has the Archaean, the Hydraean is asleep, and no one knows if the Fulgurian is still around. He might've gotten killed by the Empire too, for all we know. And has anybody even _heard_ from the Sixth in the Hexatheon? We just know he _exists_, because some book says so. Not much to go off of. So at best, Noct can get only _half_ of the Six."

"So _what _if he can't get all of them? You stop Noct from earning their favor, the whole world stays under the control of Niflheim. Don't you get what that means at all?"

Noctis had to earn the blessing of the Six for more than that; from what Noct had said about the matter, Titan expected him to _'banish the Scourge'_. Unless the gods hated Niflheim so much that they gave them a fancy title, that term made this quest a far bigger deal than stopping the 400 Years War between a Kingdom and an Empire, but Gladio could only _guess _at that.

"Better under Niflheim than under a bunch of _careless gods_," Prompto insisted. "We all saw what happened in the Trial, and that was just the first. You think it'll get any _easier_ for Noct, the more gods he meets up with? They might actually get him killed, at the rate they're going. Then what's everyone gonna do, huh? Who's gonna '_reclaim the Crystal_' then?"

The seething didn't let up for a single degree as Gladio reviewed what he himself knew of the Hexatheon and general history. Meanwhile the blond scrabbled for his morsels of amusement as he continued,

"You nobles are so stupid… you worship gods that don't care about you or your country or your world. Not enough for them to _save_ it. I mean, why wait until Insomnia's gone to shit before letting the people know they're real? Why not stop Niflheim from conquering the rest of the world, stopped the Empire before it got powerful? Doesn't Lucis have its own 'patron god', too? A patron god that _let_ the Crown City get blown up, that's left its own people in these outlands to die if not for the Nifs occupying the towns… Oh, right, that's the _absentee _god… yeah, totally worth a hair of respect, don'tcha think?"

"Your parents must have believed in them too! Or you gonna tell me they didn't?" Gladio found that hard to swallow. The people of the Crown City knew of the Six, not out of force or to conform, but because it _made_ _sense. _Titan held up the Meteor, Ifrit's remains were left at the Rock of Ravatogh, Shiva's was in Ghorovas Rift. The other three were likely to exist off of those facts alone. Faith in those gods was - or _should've _been - passed on from the adults to their kids. Even the Messengers were recognized as gods in their own right.

Prompto shrugged. "No, they didn't, really. Growing up, I heard about Reapers, mostly. Emissaries of Death. That's the thing, Gladio. _Your_ gods vowed to protect this world, and they don't do anything at all except let it go to shit. But Death itself? It's _fair. _It'll come for every_thing_ and every_one_ eventually. Even the gods."

Gladio had already thought Prompto was grating with the _helpless whiner_ act, but now that the mask was off? What a pretentious fucking snot he was. He thought he was ahead of the curve theistically, because whatever _cult_ he was into slapped a name onto a force of existence? Because he's sided with the same Empire out to kill the gods that _did_ exist just to prove their shitty point about not needing them? And he had the nerve to call nobles ignorant. He was stupid down to the last fiber, with all this talk.

The Shield couldn't help but scoff at that. "Where does that leave you?"

"With _you_."

Gladio wasn't blind. Couldn't make a claim to that. He'd first met Prompto years ago, when he initially joined the Crownsguard at 18. He'd taken note of things then- the color of the newcomer's hair, brighter than the hair on most people in Insomnia, who otherwise carried shades of black or brown or at best dyed a non-natural color like midnight green or navy blue; his eyes, hooded, gave him a bit of a resting sleepy face, though when he opened them up more they'd catch the light and gleam like stars in the night; his skin was fair, a smattering of freckles on them all the time, and it always felt like that skin would bruise easily with so much as a tap. Gladio saw these things, knew them all.

Prompto still had those same features, even now, but it was funny how they morphed into something _worse_ with just a change to the way he carried himself. His hair was the color of a flame that burned more fully than before, ever closer to consuming anything it could reach. His gaze wasn't dark enough to reflect exactly his opinion on the others around him, but it would have to do. And as worn out as he complained he was at the end of any battle, he didn't have anything to show for it, did he? Only once, outside of a fight, when Noctis held onto his arm too hard and left a mark. The Prince didn't know his own strength sometimes, but had tons to spare. _That_ was what it took.

There wasn't a single thing human about Prompto except superficial looks. No way there was. But it _felt_ like there could be… as he closed his eyes, guided Gladio's hand down along his cheek, turned his face just enough to press lips to rough fingertips (_fuck, _his lips were soft…), opened his eyes and cast the kind of look that could make a man's cock lurch and spit (wait, _wait_-).

Gladio's fingers were around Prompto's neck again. The blond held them there, as did he with their eye contact.

"You know what you need to do," he said, "so go ahead. Do it."

_The fuck?_ Was he serious? "You're sick..."

"Am I? You already know why I'm here… what I'm about… if you're really out to protect Noct, then squeeze. End it right here. If not, then let go of me and we pretend this never happened. But… I know your type. You won't choose either thing. You wanna know why?"

"_No._"

"Because you're a _coward._ Always have been, and always will be. Your problem… is you don't have any real _conviction_. I mean… who the hell are _you,_ compared to a guy like Ignis? He works every day to keep his position at Noct's side. I've even seen the way he looks at the guy, like his _whole life_ is connected to Noct's. To be honest, it makes me sick… but it's pretty hard to deny that level of devotion. But_ you?_ You say you're the King's Shield, but you don't think it, you don't act it, you don't believe in it."

"Shut your fuckin' mouth!"

"Why? It's true…" Prompto let his gaze roam up and down what he could see of Gladio, a smile forming on his face as if he _liked _what he was seeing. "You think you're imposing… you've got a solid hundred pounds over me, by my guess, but it's not the _body _I'm not afraid of. It's the guy in control of it." That smile blew out into a grin. "You think I'm really gonna shake in my boots over some asshole that got his job through _nepotism? _Hahaha!"

That laugh, that face, that look, it was grating on Gladio's last goddamn nerve, yet-

"Your dad had it right, you know? He saw right through you. Gave you a _babysitting_ role when the Prince was still little. He'd give the real Shield job to someone else, like… I dunno, _Iris?_ Too bad he died before he could make that official… but hey, he kicked the bucket knowing damn sure _you_ weren't cut for the job. You couldn't fool hi-"

Prompto's head snapped to the side. That slap might've cracked his cheek. Gladio should have done that sooner. Wondered why he didn't.

But the traitor was ever the insufferable one. He pressed his fingers to his face. "Huh… Iris really _does _hit harder than you."

The next slap sent him to the floor.

"You really think that's the best I can do?"

Prompto's body shook with each quick huff of air. He brought a hand to his face again, a partial cover to the grin that was still there. "It's not, and that's your problem too. If Ignis were here, or even Iris... I'd be dead already. They wouldn't let me get anywhere near Noct. You're too _indecisive_ to protect him like you should. There isn't an honest thing about you, is there?"

'_You know what the problem is with you? Sincerity. You lack sincerity._' Ardyn had said that. It figures that Prompto would parrot him in that way.

"Do all you Nifs sound the damn same?"

"Only the ones _worth_ a damn, yeah."

The kick to the ribs flipped Prompto onto his back. He clutched at his side, a _grimace _finally working its way along his features. Gladio was starting to feel a little better at the sight of that. Not so much at what Prompto would say next.

"Useless flirt… that's all you are…" The blond started to crawl his way along the floor to the other wall, closer to the double bed, until he could prop himself up at the bedside. "Burns you up inside, doesn't it? Me, some commoner, earning _anyone's _favor… Of course _you'd_ wanna think some shit about how _evil _I am, how I'm _working for the enemy, _or something..." Prompto curled his fingers to simulate quotation marks.

"The hell are you going on about now?" He'd talked for long enough. Were more of his words meant to stall for something?

"What, need me to spell it out for you? How do you lie to someone? I mean - _really - _lie to them?" He pulled himself up to the bed and stood there, doubled over the mattress, his chest rising and falling with each slow breath. "You tell them something they _already_ _agree with_... even if it's ridiculous. They won't think twice about anything that fits their worldview. That's all you gotta do. And what they agree with tells you a _lot _about them."

That piece of shit…! He'd said all that just to prove a point!?

"What part did you lie about?"

The blond let a titter of a laugh slip out of him. "Wouldn't be any fun if I told you."

"**What part?**"

Gladio grabbed Prompto by the back of the head and shoved his face into the mattress. Could try to smother him there. _Should. _(Wouldn't.) What part had he lied about? No, no, Gladio couldn't get caught up in that. Prompto could have told the truth and only lied _here _to mess around with him, to get him to doubt everything he'd heard up to this point. All this talk, must have been to buy time for something. Had to be. Had to find what else he was hiding.

Prompto _purred, _unconcerned with the fervor in which Gladio tore his clothes away from his body to expose as much as possible of him, even when the belt was pulled off from around his pants and used to tie his hands behind his back.

"It doesn't matter anymore," he said. "I know something more about you, now. You're jealous, and you can't _stand_ it. You can't stand that Iggy does a better job of protecting Noct. Can't stand that if it were a choice between you and me, they'd choose _me _over you. You're just _filler_. It really fucks you up, doesn't it?"

"You're still gonna rely on that _winning charm_ of yours, after all this? I could just leave you here…"

"And you'd say _what_ to the others? You think you'd be able to walk out of here, tell Iggy and Noct exactly what I told you, word for word, and they'd believe _you?_ Not Noct, especially not Ignis, and not in the state I'm in. Yeah, it really does fuck with your head… wondering what part of it is because they trust me too much, and what part is that they don't trust you at all."

Gladio yanked Prompto back until their bodies were flush against each other. Hand around his throat again. Could feel his pulse going a mile a minute. Human after all, or just _pretending?_

"**Shut. Up.**" It'd be the last time he'd say this.

"_Make me_."

He should have done this ages ago. Better late than never, though. He clasped his hand over the blond's mouth. No more words, just action this time.

Warm breath. Soft skin between his teeth. The tang of iron. A scream against his fingers, a strangled whine, a moan. No struggle… just the opposite. Hips grinding, that cute ass pushing back against his clothed cock.

_Much better… _Much better when Prompto didn't run his mouth off.

Whether or not Gladio saw through whatever act there was anymore didn't matter. All he was concerned with now was putting the brat in his place.

He at least agreed that Prompto _would _say whatever he thought someone else needed to hear, do whatever he needed to, to get them anywhere he wanted. Alone, for instance, like this. _Just _like this.

"You wanted my attention so bad… you should've just asked for it," he growled into the shell of the younger's ear.

The way the other whined and moved his hips suggested it just wouldn't be _fun _if he'd asked. No, it'd been much more entertaining for him to pose a big enough issue that Gladio would easily part from Noct's side, and work him into a jealous frenzy. That was just how well Prompto had the swordsman wrapped around his finger, and his hand wrapped around his cock.

Gladio drank in every breath and moan that came from Prompto's lips as he stroked away at the blond's dick and felt it pulse in his hand. _Fuck, he sounds like he's been _waiting_ for me to do this… _

Filthy, masochistic traitor.

Fucking gorgeous, naughty little minx, too.

Such undeniable charm packed into every bit of him, in the bend of his throat and the arch of his back, in every grind of his hips. He had the face of an angel and the body of an incubus. It should've been absurd, but he made it work, made it work so good that it didn't matter if he didn't believe in any of the gods. Gladio wanted to fuck him until he called out for them anyway.

Or… maybe not for them. Only because Gladio loved the way his _own_ name sounded when Prompto cried that out instead and came all over Gladio's hand. Loved it far too much to deny.

"Sounds like you _practiced_ that…" Gladio kept pumping away, making Prompto squirm and writhe in his grip, making him throw his head back and whimper out with what breath he had left to manage it. Gladio was gonna work every last drop out of him and stretch his nerves to the breaking point. "Did you, you little slut? Sounds like you, alright… trying to work a couple fingers in your ass, wishing it were me… probably wished I could hear you whenever my name left your mouth, huh? Wanted me to catch you in the act just to see what I'd do?"

It was sublime, watching Prompto turn into a quivering mess as all his sensation focused onto his increasingly overstimulated cockhead. It kept dribbling out cum, it didn't know what else to do. _He _didn't know what else to do, except whine and plead for pleasure and pain to regain their familiar boundaries once more. "Hnnhh~_…_"

"That a _yes?_"

"Y-yes, _yes_, _**yes!**_"

"Good. That's what I wanna hear…" But he still kept going. It wasn't enough to get the blond to that state. There was more punishment to give him yet. He wanted Gladio's attention? He got it. And the Shield had _him. _"Want me to stop?"

"_Please!_"

"_Make_ me. You strong enough to stop me yourself, or not?"

The way the blond moved his hips more insistently to fuck into that hand, and the noise that erupted from his throat as all sense of coherence left him, told Gladio everything he needed to know. The orgasms rolled into each other as Prompto reached crest after crest after crest without the dip of a valley to give him a moment's respite from the sensations, and he fell limp against the older man, legs close to giving out underneath him, a dreamy, glazed-over look in his eyes.

Was _this_ the vainglorious brat from earlier? This slut with a drooling dick, the flush of ecstasy on his body?

What a lovely look on him.

Gladio freed Prompto from his restraints and turned him around. Held his head still and claimed his lips with a kiss. It was nowhere close to gentle, instead a hungry, _primal _thing as the urge to mark the blond surged to the surface. Gladio was going to make _sure _Prompto could still feel the kiss long after they'd stopped.

Prompto didn't feel like he'd mind that, he melted so thoroughly to the contact as it happened. He let Gladio's tongue into his mouth as if it belonged there, allowed the older man to push him onto the bed and pin him down. His fingers trailed paths along Gladio's scalp, threaded through dark and wild locks.

Little trails of saliva connected their mouths as they pulled away to catch their breath, and Gladio swept his smoldering amber gaze along his prey. Prompto's cheeks were flushed to the same tint as his mouth, his dark lashes fluttered over eyes heavy with lust. His shirt was in tatters, exposing the nebulaic blemish on his side, and his pants hadn't fared much better either. His cock stood at attention again, rivulets of pre-cum making trails down to his balls. Wait, seriously? He just finished, and he was raring to go again off of just a kiss? That was … rare, Gladio supposed. Maybe more proof that the blond wasn't as normal as he pretended to be. But that's about all he'd think of that.

He had a conquest to keep making his mark on.

It didn't take much for Prompto to flip himself over and prop his ass up. Just a touch, really, a hand to trail down there and _suggest, _and he knew what to do.

"Trained that well, huh?" Growled words, equal parts envious of the 'trainer' and grateful for the spared effort on his part.

Only whimpers as response, as the blond spread himself open, exposing his deep pink pucker that pulsed for something nice and hot in it.

So tempting, so fucking _tempting… _How the hell did anyone else resist this? _Did_ they? Prompto could have anyone he wanted with so much as a look. He knew how to work people. So maybe that was it. He had a type. The type that could work him over in turn, until he was that thoughtless mess Gladio had seen earlier.

Heh. He could do that, then. Seemed easy enough.

The soft little ring quivered at the feel of a warm fingertip tracing it, and Gladio kept it up until the blond's hips began to buck and push back in order to get that finger inside him and relieve the building pressure. But not yet. Something that soft and pretty needed a _careful _touch first, for once, and Gladio was more than ready to deliver on that too. He leaned in and nipped at round, silken ass cheeks, then lightly traced his tongue between them and earned a trembling moan.

"_Fuck,_ Gladdy…" escaped Prompto's mouth, as Gladio slid in and started tongue-fucking him. The blond writhed at the feel of that slick muscle inside him, and he whispered something that sounded suspiciously like _'More...' _and sobbed in pleasure as the request was answered with wet kisses and sharp nibbles at his ring, vigorous nips and suckles there too, and hands kneading his ass. He worked his hips as if he wanted to reach his peak soon, and moaned as if he never wanted it to end.

Pre-cum spurted out of his cock. There was surely more where that came from, and Gladio continued to work the fluid out of him with well-timed curls and flexes of his tongue, and pressed his tongue against the spot he knew was there. Prompto's hips bucked more vigorously, and his hands fumbled for what they could reach of the older man's head to hold him in place.

It was beyond satisfying to hear him cry out when he finally came. Every bit of his body trembled from just Gladio's mouth. His walls clamped on the Shield's tongue. His cock jerked and spilled out cum without even being touched. It took a bit for the shaking to subside, and he relaxed onto the sheets, limp again.

When Gladio withdrew and replaced his tongue with two of his fingers, the blond's mewls were even sweeter. Gladio could feel his prey's walls tremble and give way to the digits, and he curled his fingers and pulled back until he felt it press to the same spot as before, and he massaged it, pressed hard enough to milk more fluid from the blond yet.

Damn, he was tight, though. It'd take a bit more than just this to get him ready, so Gladio added a third finger. "How'd you think you'd manage to fit my cock inside you when you're like this?"

"Dunno, don't care…" Prompto whispered.

"Really?"

"Mmmh… just fuck me… don't care if it hurts," Prompto whined.

"You'd like that, would ya? Fuckin' slut."

"Yours… your slut."

Gladio loved the sound of that. "Good… Show me just how much." He pulled his fingers out, and the noise Prompto made at that let him know that he made the right choice. He got up from the bed just as the younger man was turning around to chase his touch, and the pout and glare that followed him around was just too cute.

"Why're ya lookin' at me like that for? I'm gonna give you a little break. Well… not so little," Gladio said with a chuckle as he unfastened his pants just enough to get his cock out.

Prompto took it upon himself to do the rest- he adjusted himself on the bed for a better reach, and pulled the pants down to mid-thigh. He couldn't dare hide the elated sigh at the sight of Gladio's cock already dripping with need, and he brushed his fingertips along to tease it, allowed the glistening fluid to stain his fingers. He worked it until it was slick, and brought his mouth close to press his tongue flat to the shaft and lick a long stripe up to the tip. He gave the cockhead a kiss, and cast a mischievous glance up to Gladio that let the man know he would have more than just _fun _with this.

He wasn't shy of showing where else he could put his mouth, too, going just a bit lower than usual and taking one of Gladio's balls into his mouth. He sucked on it, adding rough pulls and swirls of his tongue before turning his attention to the other and giving it the same, then running his tongue at the seam between them.

Gladio found himself thinking that they should have done this far earlier than they were. Wondered if Prompto was this good and eager when he first joined the Crownsguard. The swordsman couldn't entertain the illusion that he'd have changed the gunner's allegiance with a good fuck or five, but he'd at least make him _reconsider._

If Prompto was thinking the same, he didn't show it. He was caught in the present moment of enjoying the flesh offered him, and after a while, drew away just enough to adjust himself so that he was supine. His new position would let him tilt his head back to receive that thick cock. He opened wide for it, and took it right in to his lovely mouth, the spongy head of it working past his soft lips. He was warm, wet, inviting. And _greedy. _He took inch after inch into his mouth, had it buried so deep its thickness made his throat bulge, and Gladio could see the outline where his cock was lodged in. Prompto took it all, til his nose was brushing against Gladio's balls, and held on just to give the Shield that stunning sight of what his dick was doing.

A growl left Gladio's mouth. There was a note of something approaching affection in it, but it wasn't quite there yet. He held Prompto's head still and rocked his hips, thrust his dick into that mouth.

What a sweet little cockwhore Prompto was. So eager, that it wasn't enough that Gladio was fucking his face. Prompto flicked his tongue at the head every time the tip was almost out, swirled his tongue around the underside whenever he got the chance. He was earning every twitch and throb, and _fuck, _he was phenomenal. He moaned with each thrust, gagged on it so good while the Shield picked up his pace and pounded him hard and fast, enough to bruise his lips. The swordsman even closed his fingers around the gunner's slender neck and took out every frustration he'd ever had on him.

Prompto didn't care, he only moaned for more, and he even _hummed_ in satisfaction when Gladio shot his cum down that awaiting throat. Swallowed it all, nursed the taste of it, tried to suck out more of it than what he was getting. Gladio could see each gulp as he took it… such an exhilarating sight.

The blond _whined_ when it was over, when the cock came free from his wet, drooling mouth with a slick pop. He sat upright again. Brushed his fingers along his chin to get whatever threads of spit and cum still clung there. Licked it all up. Gladio wouldn't get enough of that dreamy gaze Prompto gave him then.

"You want more?"

Prompto nodded.

Gladio got himself completely free of his clothes, and took his seat on the bed. Prompto was ready to wrap his fingers around the older man's cock- he intended to pump it until it was completely hard again, but Gladio took his hand away. "No teasing. You want it in, you're gonna take it like it is."

The gunner licked his lips, and no objection left them. He climbed on top of Gladio to straddle his lap, and worked the half-hard length in past his walls. Once it was done, relief slipped out of his mouth in a soft sigh. He thought he'd move his hips and work that cock back to full length the fun way, but Gladio's hands on his hips kept him still. He failed to bite back the whine of frustration.

"Y'know… you're fuckin' cute when you don't get exactly what you want."

Prompto had to stifle a growl next. "You just _want_ me to hate you, don't you."

"Comin' from the guy whose idea of foreplay is insulting me? Yeah, I do. What're you gonna do about it?"

"... Hrrrhh…"

"Thought so."

"Mmmhhh… I really _do _hate you," Prompto whined. The fact that Gladio was kissing his neck with surprising gentleness wasn't going to change his mind anytime soon, it looked like. "Can't you _move _just a little?"

"Nope. Not gonna."

"But I _want it_…"

A few minutes where he wasn't lost in Prompto's _everything _and was allowed to recollect his thoughts. Was that too much to ask for? It started to feel that way. Prompto knew how to sound needy, and how to appeal to the lower brain in _both_ meanings of the term.

"C'mon," the swordsman goaded in return, "just gotta keep it warm for me. You can do that, can't you?"

"No, don't wanna."

"You're gonna have to."

"You sure about that?" Again Prompto reached out to run his fingers along dark hair, and his warm breath skimmed Gladio's cheek as he whispered into the swordsman's ear, "I could get you _hot_, instead…"

He didn't need to catch the way amber eyes darkened with lust; he'd feel as much when calloused hands roamed from his hips to his ass, and fingers teased at his already stretched entrance.

Even then, there came the low snarl like a mountain lion seconds away from pouncing, along with the warning, "You don't want that... trust me." Hearing Prompto blab about in a lusty haze was one thing, but his insistence on this so soon was… Gladio didn't want to say he was worried. He wasn't going to say it.

"You didn't hear me earlier…? I _do _want it. Wouldn't be here if I didn't..."

Their lips met, and their tongues slid against each other. Gladio caught the lingering bitter taste of his own release, and felt his pulse quicken with the desire to … what? What did he want to do? He didn't have any clearer idea than each beat of his heart seemed to match pace with the voice in his mind that whispered _more, more_, and that the voice had started to sound like Prompto. So he thought to himself, he could try to satisfy that voice. Give it what it wanted. He could try.

Prompto should have panicked. Gladio was expecting him to; not many of the guys or girls he'd gone out with could handle him as he was, and having something in one's mouth was much different than having it in more _sensitive_ spots. But traces of fear had been absent in the blond since the beginning of this encounter, so if anything it was far too late to expect them to show up now.

All that mattered was that as Gladio's cock swelled its way to fullness inside of Prompto, a harsh breath left Prompto's lungs, and his lips pressed into a tense line. The blond's walls were stretching to their limits already, and he couldn't tell when that dick inside of him would stop growing. But not a single whine in the negative left the rosy seam of his mouth, they wouldn't leave past the teeth that bit down on his bottom lip.

Was he pretending he could take this?

"You alright?"

"...What?"

Did Prompto not hear him? "I asked-"

"No, I _know _what you said. Why would you even bother? The hell is wrong with you?" Prompto looked away. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. I was right anyway." His bitter laugh crackled in the air between them, and their gazes met again. Gladio saw what glimmers of humanity he thought he'd ever get from the younger man. "You can't commit to jack shit. That's what all this is… You're treating me like you want this to _mean _something all of a sudden."

Was he doing that? Even he didn't know anymore.

"You can't make any decisions on your own, when it comes down to it," Prompto mused. "You want me, but you don't say so. You hate me, but you won't leave me alone. You try to do both. But you'll never," another laugh, "you won't get that."

He reached back to grasp the base of Gladio's cock, and held it still. Lifted his hips to pull that length out of him until only the tip was left, then slammed down hard on it. A searing wave of heat went through Gladio's body starting from his dick, and judging from the moan that escaped Prompto's lips, he felt the same. And, gods, those walls, they clenched harder than before.

Gladio threw his head back and cursed aloud, and Prompto started up a rhythm at that response, adding a delicious swivel to his hips with each slide up and down. To bring the older man to his peak would take little time at all at this rate.

"Oh, fuck, you're good…" Gladio groaned.

"Ah.. hah…" Prompto breathed back. "Wish I could… say the same…"

A spark of anger flickered in the swordsman's gaze, accompanied with a low snarl. "The hell did you say?"

"Want me to say that again?" A breathy laugh. "I mean... I know what a _real_ man feels like, and you don't make the cut. Nowhere close… not with your issues. And, I can honestly say," he paused to lick his lips as if savoring his next words before they left his mouth, "what I'm getting from you doesn't hold a _candle _to what I got last night."

Gladio snapped.

Prompto should have cried out when calloused fingers gripped his hips hard enough to leave an indentation. He should have cried out when he was flipped over onto his back and pinned down. He should have cried out when Gladio began to set the pace with wild, hard thrusts, and it looked like he wanted to split the blond in two that way.

He should have cried. He didn't. And Gladio wanted to _make him._

Gladio's every thrust was rough, brutal. Whether or not it hurt didn't matter to him. He felt nothing more except the grip on his cock and thought of how much deeper he could shove it in to that body, lewd slaps of flesh on flesh driving him further. His voice rumbled like a distant storm as he growled out curses at the blond. _Filthy slut. Fuckin' Nif traitor._

The cheap beds in this place were good for something after all. They held up under the force, creaked rhythmically to each thrust, but they couldn't drown out the sobs and moans and hungry little pants of the minx that clutched the sheets and bunched them between his fingers. The gunner whined and feigned hurt even as his legs crossed around the swordsman's hips and tried to lock him in place as best as he could.

That Gladio felt the blond relax around his cock was some side effect of their rut. An error he would correct. He pounded harder and faster at that, more brutal an assault on the blond's rim. He wanted to give it to him in ways no one had ever thought before, though he knew he wasn't really planting a flag anywhere, so to speak.

Maybe this is what Ardyn saw in Prompto. An easy fuck, someone whose hair he could yank, whose tender neck he could bite and get his hands around, whose skin he could bruise and welt with fists and belts, whose mouth still begged for _more, more, more_.

A cockwhore.

A traitor.

But Prompto still mewled from too deep a thrust. Still spurt fluid from his cock. Still felt unbelievable when he clung to something that thick filling him. Still wouldn't cry from any of this.

Gods, why wouldn't he just _cry?_

Instead his moans were sopping wet with need, desperation laced into each note. Looked like he was fading, losing himself in each thrust, the feel of every vein and contour of the invading cock coaxing a surrender from his body. He begged for Gladio not to stop, and he kept on begging until he felt his own coil snap and his back arched off the mattress, until thick ropes of hot cum painted his abs and chest and had him shaking. His walls quivered and tightened in a vise grip so _intense _that Gladio followed after.

The swordsman's cock jerked and spilled its pent up fluid, but he hadn't stilled like the gunner had. His hips continued their rabid piston against that body, and Prompto's mouth hung open in a moan accompanied by the wet slaps of cum-covered cock against an abused hole. Then came the final thrust, the grind of his hips in circles. Gladio chased after that release, crushing his lips against Prompto's in a bruising, hungry kiss, and they stayed that way until the feeling subsided and they were spent at long last.

Prompto's body sank back onto the mattress. Gladio pulled out and rolled over to rest at Prompto's side. He resisted what urges came to let himself collapse atop the blond. He wouldn't - _couldn't_ \- make this mean any more than what it was. But he would lay eyes on his handiwork.

There was no denying how obscene they had been, but the way Prompto looked, it didn't matter. The sweat collected on his forehead. His hair was so disheveled and damp from it that it formed a halo around his face. Dark lashes fluttered down starry eyes, and only when he mouthed _'Thank you'_ with his bitten and bruised lips had they stayed shut completely. His chest rose and fell with long, deep breaths. There was a serenity to him that could only have fit someone that asked for nothing more and received nothing less than what he wanted.

Gods, maybe he _didn't _know the difference between pain and pleasure, and took both whenever he could get it. Maybe he'd spent so long being empty, he'd do anything to fill the hollow where his soul should have been.

Maybe he _wasn't_ human.

That was fine.

Gladio didn't feel like he was human, himself. Nothing but base urges cocooned in human flesh. The concept of emotional honesty was as hazy to him as his childhood memories.

Was he ever only himself when he was pissed off? Or was it just because he didn't have to think of anything except himself, and hurting others? Things were simple that way. He couldn't deny that.

He hated it. But he wouldn't change.

He wouldn't.

Sleep pulled him under, and he thought of nothing more.

* * *

He woke up with a finely-honed edge of cold steel at his neck.

"Don't even _think_ of moving," came the silken, accented voice. The ire was just as sharp as the blade. "You're liable to suffer an _unfortunate accident _if you do."

By 'unfortunate accident', Ignis meant a deliberate beheading. Gladio didn't doubt it for a second.

"I'll ask this once. What - did you do - to him?"

"Nothing he didn't want."

The dagger came closer to breaking Gladio's skin. "Nothing _you_ didn't _make him _want." Ignis corrected.

The swordsman didn't object. That was what it looked like. Prompto wasn't a traitor in _their_ eyes. He was a faithful friend that wore his heart on his sleeve. He would be _heartbroken _if he'd heard that even one of them thought he had plotted ill against them. He would give anything of himself to protect Noctis, to protect any of his friends. He'd _do anything _to prove his loyalty to them, even if it'd mean his body was left bruised in whatever way the aggressor saw fit.

They'd all been watching out for _Ardyn_, questioned _his_ intentions. But tonight, he hadn't been the one to make any marks on Prompto. He was far and away the least capable.

Gladio closed his eyes. Ignis could put him out of his misery if he wanted to. "For what it's worth… _sorry_."

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to. As misfortune would have it, you've managed the revolting feat of having harmed _more than one _person I happen to care about."

"Hn…?" _Wait… oh, __**shit**__._ "Noct…?"

After a silence and a harsh inhale from Ignis, "_Yes. _And the only reason I haven't bled you out like the animal you are is because _he_ still imagines he can try and _understand _the likes of you." He drew the dagger away from Gladio's throat, and added, "He's outside. I know how difficult a task this is for you, but at least _try_ to make yourself decent. The sight of you as you are has made me sick enough for all of us."

Gladio said nothing in response, and slid out of the bed. He cleaned himself up, got dressed, and wished that, just this once, the retainer could _ignore _whatever Noct said and follow his own instincts instead. It would spare them all so much trouble.

Prompto stirred awake as Gladio was on his way out, either finally registering that no one was taking up space beside him, or realizing that Ignis was there. What it was he whispered, Gladio didn't hear. He shut the room door and left Prompto and Ignis alone.

Noctis was seated on the streetside railing near the gas pumps. His shoulders - no, his whole body - shook from fits of sorrow that snuck up behind him and leapt onto his back. But he didn't make a sound save for hiccups and rattling breaths in his attempts to steady himself as if nothing were wrong.

"Noct…" Gladio began, and as soon as the Prince's name left his mouth, he wanted to take it back. He didn't want to talk. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't be honest… supposed he didn't deserve that, if he never had been that way before now.

Noctis stilled like tension wound up tight around him and drew every part of him closer inward. He relaxed, but with a cold seeped into his muscles.

"… Gladiolus."

The Shield never heard his own name that way before.

"Anything to say for yourself?"

What was there _to_ say? "... No."

"… Then … was it true? What you said, about…" a brief sniffle betrayed the Prince's composure, "about Prompto?"

Gladio took in a breath and ignored the way his eyes burned as he tilted his head back and looked up at the night sky. More beautiful than he deserved. Like everything else in his life.

"No. It wasn't … I was wrong about him."

The laugh from the Prince was short, barely there. "I told you he wasn't a traitor." And again sorrow weaved itself into his words, "But I don't know what to call _you _anymore."

Gladio reached for his liege- "Noct-" and managed a feather-light brush of his fingers against a sleeve when-

"_**Don't touch me!**_"

The magic- _Noct's _magic- burned in Gladio's veins, did more than that. The roar of the magic filled his ears as it swept through him, choked his every nerve until their seams cracked and burst open and shriveled in the heat of it. Left behind ashes to be swept away in the next breeze that whistled past. Gladio questioned why he was still alive after this, questioned whether it was a mercy to still be breathing.

Noctis stood on sturdier feet than before, and he turned around to finally face the man _meant _to be his Shield. His eyes had the same uncanny glow to them as when he summoned Titan, and the tear streaks were yet visible on his face.

"I told you that there'd be a time when you wouldn't be around to protect me," Noctis said, a wistful note of reminiscence in his voice.

Gladio fought the urge to speak. There was no more point. He nodded, instead.

"Then you know that time's come sooner than we thought. You're _dismissed_, Gladiolus. Live whatever life you want, _away from us_."

There was no longer the thrum of magic in the back of Gladio's mind that would hint to him of Noctis's emotional state. He couldn't feel any of that at all. He was nothing to him anymore, their connection severed, and their distance grew greater with each step Noct took towards the motel room.

Noctis had made it to the doorway, and Prompto finally surfaced. He'd likely spoken to Ignis already, covered his own tracks, implicated Gladio even more. Maybe Ignis's opinion on Gladio couldn't _get_ any lower, or maybe that opinion grabbed the nearest shovel and started to dig its way into Hell. Who knows?

Their mouths were moving in grave conversation. Noct looked like every word out of him only made the weight on his shoulders more real. He was close to sobbing again. Prompto embraced Noctis, exactly like a friend would. Noctis got his arms around him like he needed that.

He gave Noctis a few more consolatory pats on the shoulder as the Prince went in, and then slowly pulled the door closed. No longer within sight of the others, the traitor sauntered toward the dismissed former Shield. _Slithered _his way there, with the snakelike smile that said he had everything under control.

"What, gonna twist the knife in some more?" There wasn't any rancor in the swordsman's scoff. "Just shove it between my ribs and get it over with."

"Why waste my time with that? Your heart's hollow enough that you wouldn't even feel it."

"Hm."

The blond sidled up to him, and leaned his head in, a feigned show of needing comfort. "I'm not the one responsible for this. You are."

"You're completely innocent. Sure."

"Of course I am!" He sounded so proud of that, too. "Me, I only had to follow some _really _good advice." He placed his hand above his eyes to mimic a visor, or rather, the rim of a hat. " '_If someone thinks little of you, use that against them. They've just handed you the leash to lead them around with_'."

"Ardyn told you that."

"Correctamundo. A real shame no one told you the same thing. But, don't worry about it, big guy," he clapped Gladio on the shoulder in a parody of familiarity, "you've got all the time in the world now, to learn lessons like that. As for Noct… I'll take care of him."

As Prompto walked away and returned to the others, a question snaked into the back of Gladio's mind and curled up there.

What _did_ he expect would happen? He didn't have it in him to protect anyone the way they needed. He didn't have enough conviction for that.

Prompto had seen that. Now everyone else did, too.


	2. A Suggestion

When they all got their keys, Ignis and Noctis decided they wouldn't go in just yet. They opted instead to take advantage of what bits of sunlight were still afforded them to make an inventory check and get any supplies that they lacked, then refine or replace their weapons. Ignis in particular would go through the next day's itinerary, and he'd spend more than enough time being thorough and leaving no potential paths unconsidered. And, maybe, he'd have a bit of space in there for Noct's whims.

A good enough opportunity as any to do all that, Gladio figured, but he spotted Prompto about to tag along and intrude on the conversation already underway (the _usual _ploy for attention, now that he thought about it). He put his hand on the blond's shoulder. "You oughta sit this one out."

Prompto looked down at his shoulder, then at Gladio, then shot him a questioning look. Whether the innocence was false or not, Gladio couldn't tell just yet. "What, they don't need my input?"

Gladio answered back with a shake of his head. "Not for now. Besides, Ignis does enough thinking for all of us combined, anyway."

"Then… what should I do?"

"I dunno, play _King's Knight_ or something."

Prompto checked his phone for service in the area, then cast his gaze back up at the swordsman. "There's something up that you're not telling me."

"Yeah. There is. I wanna ask you something."

"About… what?"

"You _know _what about."

Prompto sucked his teeth at him, and Gladio imagined the blond with a few years shaved off, in an Academia uniform, making the same noise at some instructor he didn't like. It made the older man roll his eyes.

"Didn't you learn your lesson when Iggy stopped you from talking? _And_ Noct threatened to leave you to the Nifs?" Prompto asked.

Gladio made a brief note to self to suffer no more personal failures in front of someone like Prompto, considering his bald-faced propensity for throwing said failure back at someone's feet like a hunting cat proud of a new kill.

"Yeah, it's easy for you to talk about that, isn't it?" He shot back. "Play at being helpless, and get other people to defend you so you don't have to do anything for yourself. That's your strategy, ain't it? Worked out well for you so far."

Prompto's eyes widened a fraction, and for that long of a second there was a glint of anger in his eyes. Yet, less a mere _glint_ and more of a bolt that lanced past and brightened its surroundings before it faded away and left no trace. "I'm _real close_ to deciding you were better off dying from heatstroke, asshole."

"Why, hit a little too close to home there?"

"I am _not-_" Prompto bit back the rest of his words. It wouldn't do to make a scene here. He stole glances to either side of him to check if they'd garnered the attention of anyone more, and when he found that no one had their eyes turned in his direction, he spun on his heels around to leave to their motel room.

He moved like he was seconds away from his every step being a petulant stomp. Gladio observed, wondering if that was his anger talking, or if this was also all just an act. It was possible he had everything under control and wouldn't show it just yet. That, at least, made him unlike his possible ally who made his own victories known at whatever opportunity proved convenient.

Prompto was barely in the room before Gladio came in after and shut the door, and he followed that with a firm hold around the back of Prompto's neck that stilled him. It wasn't his style to do things this way, but- "_Those who conjure through sound should meditate in quiet, and forget speaking for a while._"

Where magic at its simplest was 'words changing reality', each spell specified the target of the change, and where each spell specified the target, an incantation reached deep into the core concept behind that change, gave it more focus. Incantations were a tad too poetic for his liking- he preferred to read such style than speak it- but it had to be this way; he wasn't Ignis. Even that man's _quick-casts_ were potent.

Anyway, Gladio didn't need Prompto to talk, necessarily. He needed him to _give answers, _and he could do that just fine without his voice.

Prompto tried to refute that with an unfortunate exercise in futility, as he tried to speak and no sound emerged except that of the air passing through him. He realized the extent of the Silence, and turned around to glower at Gladio, teeth bared and tension coiling his muscles taut. Just because he could cope well with another option to express himself didn't mean he liked his best one taken away from him. Regardless, he raised his hands and started gesturing, shaping terms with his fingers. _I don't know what the hell your problem is with anything I do_, _but either you stop it, or I stop it __**for**__ you._

"Oh, you're gonna stand up for yourself this time? That's a switch."

_Keep talking and we'll see how much of one it is_. Prompto reached for the handgun he kept by his side, never stored away in the Armiger in case of these exact situations where conjuring wasn't an option.

Gladio scoffed. "That's cute, but say you do pop a few bullets in me. There's no way you'd be able to cover it up."

Prompto chewed on his lower lip, and Gladio could _almost _see the debate going on between his ears in his attempt to formulate any possible excuses for why the swordsman's torso could resemble a colander and he'd consequently caught a terrible case of no longer being among the living. The gulp of air and narrowed eyes told him that whatever stories Prompto tried to come up with, went up in smoke. He took his hand away from his weapon and continued to sign.

_So I don't kill you. Big deal. Making you __**wish**__ you were dead would be close enough in my book._

"It really is a lot harder for you to play things by ear when Ardyn isn't feeding you your information, huh?"

Prompto gritted his teeth. His gestures became quicker, and his hands started to look like claws. _He's __**never**__ told me what to do._

"Could've fooled me, considering how you never skip an opportunity to stick with him when he's around." Despite himself, irritation slipped into each word and drove him to step toward Prompto. "Did you forget _why _you joined the Crownsguard in the first place?"

_You make it sound like I joined for the same reasons you did. News flash, shit-for-brains: I didn't!_ With every step Gladio took towards Prompto, Prompto took one back, keeping the distance between them even until he felt his back press against the wall. He may have been unable to cast, and unholstering his gun at such a close range was a bad idea, but his resolve not to show fear was still there. _I know it comes as a shock to you, but some people __**choose**__ what their jobs are, sometimes. They don't get it handed to them just because of their last name, or because their families were in the same line of work, or whatever the fuck!_

"And you _chose. _Like it or not, you're here to _protect Noctis_ and make sure he fulfills whatever his calling is. Not to side with some Nif!"

_So what if I did it anyway? What's the big deal about that?_

"You _know _what the deal is!"

_I'm afraid I don't! You're gonna have to explain it to me. Use your big-boy words and all._

"I don't need to explain a damned thing and you know it. Now's not the time for you to pretend those assholes have anything remotely worth agreeing with!"

_As if Insomnia __**did?**_ Prompto shook his head in denial of such an idea, and the anger in his expression didn't leave him enough space to show what pity made brief flickers there. _You nobles are so coddled, you don't even __realize__ there was a reason people hated the Crown City._

"How -?" Gladio was close to sputtering. How the _hell _did someone hate the same city they lived in? Had Ardyn brainwashed this little shitstain?

_Like I said, you nobles are coddled- you're_ _**dense**__,_ Prompto continued. _You know… where I lived, I could see the Wall. And I learned a bit of the history behind it, too, how it used to cover more than just Insomnia. About thirty years ago, the Wall was pulled back without even a warning for all those people in the outlands, and Insomnia kept on being safe while everyone else was left to deal with the consequences._

Gladio took a quick review of Insomnia's history. Okay, yes, it was true that King Mors scaled back the Wall before his passing and Regis was crowned King, but that had made the Wall _stronger_ than it was before. Had there been a weak paling protecting Insomnia and the other nearby territories, it would only make it that much easier for the Empire to take over _everything _if they breached that defense_. _

"What would that have to do with you?" He couldn't help but posit. "You lived _inside _the Wall's protection-"

_Don't talk to me like I'm as stupid as you think_. Prompto blew air between his teeth. _It could've changed at any moment if whatever King thought it __**strategically sound**__. I know the way the City is set up. It wasn't just a fluke that I lived near the Wall; __**all**__ the foreigners lived near the edges. But natives, the nobles especially… you all lived closer to the center. Closer to the Citadel. Closer to the Crystal's protection. _

Was it just Gladio, or was the way Prompto gestured '_nobility living near the Crystal_' more apt to describe '_wastewater circling a drain_'?

_You all would be the last people left to the Nifs or the daemons. It's real obvious your parents never had to sit __**you**__ down and give you a talk of what could happen if the Wall wasn't where you could see it anymore. _A '_tch_' noise followed the end of that sentence, not unlike flint striking steel for a spark.

Words failed Gladio, then. Was the Crown City truly set up that way, with all the commoners in the outskirts? The first to be sacrificed? He couldn't know for sure. He never bothered to learn the layout in terms of people rather than places and points of interest. Prompto sounded convinced of this, but then again, he could be as convinced as he damn well pleased about anything he wanted to. There was _still _the chance Ardyn fed him lies to nurse some already-existing resentment in Prompto, but then where would _that _resentment come from?

"From where does it follow that you distrusted the _nobility _so much that you'd ally yourself with Niflheim? They're the same guys that -" _that killed your parents, _Gladio had wanted to say. The others had suffered their own losses during the Fall of Insomnia, but of all of them, Prompto had heard of it in a way that no one should. Niflheim was responsible for that. Didn't that mean anything to him at all?

Prompto took a glance down and to the left, and just as quick came his response. _Not with the Empire… just with Ardyn. He wasn't responsible for what happened. Besides, he's… _and there was a small pause as Prompto considered how to complete the thought … _He's different._

"For fuck's sake!" It was pathetic to witness. Prompto sounded like he was vouching for some shit boyfriend that no one with any sense would approve of. … _Not altogether inaccurate, _Gladio thought. But this was a lot more serious than who he was seeing. "What sob story did he pull to win you over?"

_None! Sure, he mentioned that even the other Imperials hate his guts for what he's been up to, but that's not relevant. _Prompto shrugged and gave a quick tilt of his head._ What … is it really so hard for you to think someone can stand on the other side of a conflict __**without**__ being scum of the earth? Childish. Expected, but childish coming from you._

Gladio had to resist the urge to sweep his hand over his face in exasperation. The _petulant whiner _was calling _him_ childish. He tempered the urge with a reminder that said whiner persona had been exactly that. Prompto had put on a front and acted like someone they wouldn't think twice about, while he formulated his opinions on everyone else in secret. Deceptive, but effective.

"So, what, you think you know better? It doesn't matter if Ardyn didn't have a hand in what happened to Insomnia or your parents, _he's _still working for the Emperor, and that makes _him_ part of the problem."

_Ardyn isn't working for the Empire either, _Prompto corrected_. He may be __**with**__ them, but he isn't __**for **__them. Pretty sure you'd know what that's like. _

At that, he pointed directly to Gladio and mouthed '_fake Shield!_'.

Gladio gave the traitor a glare that should have made him cower. "Call me that again, I dare you."

One couldn't expect the chill of fear to grip someone with ice water already coursing in their veins, though. '_It's true_,' Prompto mouthed, but he showed no interest in repeating himself as he was dared.

Gladio would leave it at that. Back to the subject at hand. "The Empire thinks it can stop Noctis from getting the blessings of the Six. You're after the same thing, I take it?"

_Maybe. But answer this: How is Noct supposed to get them all anyway?_ Prompto countered. _You keep saying __**the Six**__, but it's more like __**the Three**__. Shiva and Ifrit are gone, Ramuh probably is, too. Noct already has Titan, Leviathan is still asleep, and no one's heard from the Sixth. I doubt they're gonna make an appearance now, after all that's happened. _

"You're saying it's hopeless, then? That helping Noctis fulfill his calling is a lost cause?"

The roll of Prompto's eyes gave him time to avert his gaze and not have to look at Gladio for longer than he needed to. When they made contact again, those galactic eyes were less than impressed with the fact that their owner had to explain the following.

_First off, you don't even know what his calling entails, exactly; none of us do. But whatever __that __is, I'm saying there has to be a way to get him where he needs to be, __**without **__the use of the gods. You might think it's great that Noct got Titan to our side, but… come __on__, Gladio. Titan's the only one that's actually __**done** anything__, and honestly? That's a pretty low bar- _

He briefly paused to set one hand as far down as it could go without him having to crouch, then lifted it back up to continue-

_when we're talking about a god that went to sleep with a rock on his back. The other gods don't come close. We've been through Leide. It's a __desert.__ With forests on either side of it. Does that seem normal to you? It doesn't have to be that way, unless you really believe something as powerful as the Fulgurian is just __too** busy**__ to bring consistent rain over there and thought it was better to leave it in such a shitty condition._

Gladio huffed. He wasn't really one to question the gods, considering their incomprehensible tongue and immense power, and he didn't think it appropriate to start now. And if there was a problem with their conduct, he'd have heard of a Priestess or a King objecting to it. They were the ones that the Six- and yes, he _was_ still going to call them that- showed most favor to.

"Without gods, huh? Did Ardyn convince you of that too?"

Another _'Tch'_ noise. _No. He didn't 'convince' me. Like I said, he didn't give me a sob story or any of that. It just happens that … we see __**eye-to-eye**__ on some things. _

It was one thing for Prompto to say that they _saw eye-to-eye. _But he hadn't done only that. He winked, closed his left eye the same deliberate way Ardyn would when he was behaving particularly oddly, even for them. And over his right, he brought his hands together, and formed a circle with his thumbs and pointer fingers. Like a sign for 'glasses', but both lenses overlapping into one. The remaining fingers were intertwined and formed a steeple.

The Crest of Etro.

Oh, fuck. This was worse than what Gladio had initially thought. That an ally he had known for years was working with an enemy Empire was one thing. Finding out that said ally-turned-traitor was a straight-up _heathen_ was another. As far as he knew, the majority of Insomnia, heck, the _whole world, _believed in the Six because they actually existed. Even Niflheim trying to kill off what they could of the Hexatheon adhered to the fact that the gods were real enough to _be _killed.

Etro, he'd read a thing or two about, and none of the texts were charitable. No being alive had ever seen this supposed Goddess in person. Instead the civilized world wrote of her 'blessings' which turned out to be their opposites. Even now, the fact that people _aged _and _died _was her doing. And while everyone died as a matter of fact, those that were 'blessed' with her 'Eyes' died earlier than normal if they didn't go insane from what it was they 'saw', confused between their visions and reality. That the world would one day meet its end would be her doing, too. The death of the gods as well, _if _that ever happened? Her doing. All that, and no one had ever seen this Goddess with their own eyes.

What good was a deity no one could see, sitting in a realm no one could cross through and come back from, casting curses that could never be lifted? Sounded dreadful in its most basic meaning.

In that case, Prompto was right when he said Ardyn wasn't _working for_ Niflheim. He was _using _them. And Prompto, in turn, wasn't on his friends' side either, yet not directly on the side of Niflheim. He and that Imperial Chancellor, and perhaps more people that Gladio wasn't aware of, were using both the dominant political superpower _and _the opposition, for their own goals.

Bastard that Prompto was, he watched with delight as the realization dawned upon Gladio, and he concluded with a smile, _What more can I say?_

"Whatever you come up with, tell it to Noct yourself," Gladio decided. "I've had enough of listening to you."

"Mm, I'll consider it," Prompto said aloud.

Wait, "Wh-"

* * *

Gladio came to slumped over against an end table, and as the recollection returned to him, he used some choice four-letter words to curse his lack of attention to his previous situation. He should have noticed the mist curling around Prompto's fingertips and seen it for the bad sign that it was. Instead he'd only known he was being hit with a Sleep spell when Prompto's hand touched his face.

But what in the _hell _had Prompto even said? Incantations bolstered the power of spells, and given the swordsman's size, he'd sure as hell need one to knock him out cold like that, but whatever Prompto attached to that cast didn't sound like anything Gladio had ever heard before. It sounded... _ancient. _Oh no, Prompto mentioned it on the ride here. Ardyn knew how to cast magic, somehow, without the connection to either House Caelum or Fleuret. He just _'learned how'_, and combined with the fact that he prioritized the supposed Goddess of Death over even the Six and their influence on the known world was bad news.

Gladio got back to his feet and made a beeline for the Crow's Nest Diner. Prompto would join up with Ignis and Noctis there, he was sure. He was 'considering it', was he not? Gladio could imagine the little traitor was already halfway to making him look like the bad guy of the story, crocodile tears and all, and Noct would lay awkward pats on his shoulders, not much for physical contact himself but aware that Prompto was the kind of person who needed it.

The door to the diner came open with the ring of windchimes and plod of boots on the tile. Noctis was doubled over the pinball machine in his typical obsessive fashion. Ignis merely observed. Prompto was absent.

Gladio didn't have time to turn and leave without a word, as Ignis looked up as if waiting for his entry.

_Fuck. _He couldn't play this off. "Has anyone seen Prompto?"

Ignis raised a brow. "I thought he was with you."

Noctis looked up and let the ball go into the drain, the game briefly forgotten as the exchange registered. "What? What happened to Prompto?"

_Shit, shit, shit. _"Nothing, it's fine. He just… He's left somewhere, and I don't know where." Gladio realized what a lame answer that was, but it was better than blurting out that Prompto was not only a traitor to their cause but a nonbeliever. _That_ wouldn't go over well. They wouldn't believe him if he said it.

"He can't be too far from here," Ignis said. "We-"

"Don't." Gladio _had _to cut him off. He didn't imagine this getting any other way except messy, if all of them got involved in searching for Prompto. "You stay with Noct. I'll go look for Prompto. In fact, I _promise _to bring him back, safe and sound. How's that?"

There was a glint of suspicion in Ignis's gaze, though that could have just been the light upon his glasses. "Be sure that you do."

Noctis looked uncertain of a great many things, but it subsided with the close of his eyes and the increased thrum of magic that both his bodyguard and his retainer could feel in their bones.

"He's heading west," the prince murmured, "and he feels… I don't know," he admitted, and placed his hands on either side of his head and mimed turning palm-sized knobs in either direction. "It's all… jumbled."

That was all the confirmation that Gladio needed to make that search on his own. "Stay with Noct," he repeated to Ignis, and exited the diner, leaving in the direction of Old Lestallum. Prompto would head there himself if he needed to get into contact with Ardyn, given the closer proximity to a communications tower.

Moreover, in a choice between speed and visibility, Prompto would likely travel on foot and take advantage of the forest separating the rest area from the old town. Though it was slower than hitching a ride, not having an extra pair or two of eyes on him meant no one around to reveal his whereabouts if anyone had asked for a blond in black with a bunch of T-shaped crosses on his shirt. That and less chance of him ending up somewhere he _didn't _want to be, if he were recognized by the person picking him up and not vice versa.

Yeah, the forest was a sensible route to take.

Gladio noted the obvious in his travel; any visual semblance of civilization only reached so far out from the rest area. Trees filled the surroundings after a few minutes, and the forest only got more dense the further in he traveled. All he had to go off of was that the ground gave way easily to a regular person and left evidence to what path they tread, as did dried shoots to a hurried pace, and it relieved him that his guess was right. Prompto still didn't trust himself with a Float spell to avoid making any footprints, so follow tracks Gladio did.

The sun started its retreat from the skies and sought the cover of the forest. The wind seemed to chase the sinking star, and brought with it a sweet and stinging scent. The clouds took on a pale echo of the color of the leaves, not as closely as open sea reflected a cloudless sky, but enough to put him on edge and make him pick up his pace.

He followed the tracks while the skies grew darker, and kept on until he no longer could, for the footprints stopped short. Had Prompto cast a spell at this point?

Simple explanation, but there could be another. Gladio raised his hand and his fingers came alight with a Fire spell. The flame crackled, sparked, and with the light it cast, he looked around and checked the trees for scuff marks or broken branches. Prompto wasn't above climbing trees; he often did it when he needed a vantage point to get a shot.

A breeze snuffed the light of his spell right out. He was close to thinking that the Fire cast wasn't a good idea in the first place, when the air resounded with a laugh he was getting frankly sick and tired of.

"_Lighting a fire in a forest, with no way to put it out? Didn't anyone teach you better than that?_"

An Aero spell, huh? "Some lessons take longer to sink in than others." Gladio shrugged, and clenched the fingers of his right hand into a loose fist while crystalline lights gleamed around it. "You gonna show yourself, or keep hiding in the dark?"

"_Me, hiding? Rich, coming from a coward like you." _

The air cracked open from gunshots fired from Gladio's right. A crackle, two, three of them. The air shimmered, the wall of magic crumbled, the bullets fell. Those shots gave Prompto away. The wind could work to Gladio's advantage this time. He swept the gust of an Aerora toward the source of the bullets, heard branches creak in protest- a weight lifted off them.

"I'm here anyway, aren't I?" His gaze darted back and forth for any sign of the traitor's approach "All on my own, too; I'm not that great at the whole 'coward' thing, it looks like."

"_You'd think so, but I see right through you, self-aggrandizing fraud!"_

The air burned, there was the telltale crisp scent. Gladio summoned the Shield of the Merciful King. Raised it in time to block a thunderbolt aimed at him from between the trees. Everything else went mute and stayed that way for a while after the Thundara dispersed.

Once the ringing had stopped and he was sure there was no more danger, he spared a glance at the shield, checked the damaged gilding on it. _That_ was from a quick-cast?

"_A real shield for a fake one. Fitting!_" Prompto sounded closer than before, but it was still difficult to pinpoint where his voice was coming from.

"Thought we covered this; you're _not _calling me that!"

"_Why not? It's true! You talk about me needing other people to defend me, but it's you. You're the one that needs others. Classic projection." _

"Projection, huh? Pretty big word for a little guy like you to be saying it." If he could keep Prompto talking, this would be easy.

"_But it's perfect for you. You believe in these careless gods because you think they're the only things that can protect Noct better than you would. Better yet, you __**want**__ them to, you __want__ them to be that strong so that you don't have to lift a finger at the job you swore you'd do! __Where's your conviction, man? I mean… someone with their job already set for them, all you have to do is live up to expectations. How hard is that? Unless… you **can't** do it? You say you're the King's Shield, but you don't think it, you don't act it, you don't believe in it. And the reason you don't, is because you're scared. Scared of the possibility it's not enough."_

Gladio let himself look mildly impressed at that assessment. "You know… you're right. That's me down to a tee. Maybe you missed your real calling as a therapist?"

Hearing that stunned the voice into silence for a few seconds. _"What, really?"_

"Nah, just fuckin' with ya."

An idea and a fire were a lot alike, Gladio found. In this case they were one and the same. The Firaga spell exploded, sparks catching on brush at the foot of the trees, if the trees themselves hadn't already caught flame. What brush was still dry caught easy and burnt up fast, and the flames didn't take long to lap at the trees to consume them too.

Either Prompto escaped from that and gave away his position, or he escaped from that and gave away his position while burning. Those were his options. But he was crafty. He'd take a third route.

Gladio blocked a sword strike with the Merciful King's Shield. Prompto used that impact and leapt away from the swing of the Chaos King's Axe, put some distance between them.

"Heh…" Prompto tightened his grip on the Wise King's Sword. "We're going nowhere fast, huh?"

Gladio switched the Shield and Axe out for the Dynast King's Greatsword. "Looks that way."

The both of them channeled the galestorm of an Aeroga in their sword swings that extinguished the flames. The howl of the wind mixed in with the rumble in the distance, then died down.

With the flame cleared, Gladio held a tighter grip onto the greatsword. "So, how did you get out of that Silence so fast? I was hit with it hours ago, and it took nearly that long for it to wear off."

"Oh, that…" The smirk on the blond was so venomous, Gladio could feel it rush through his own veins. Prompto dispersed the Sword of the Wise King into the gleams of crystal shards, to illuminate his features, and with his hand free, he unfastened the bandana around his right arm. He turned it around in his hand, and let it dangle from his fingers, so that Gladio could see what _exactly_ it was.

No way… "A ribbon?" Hidden under the black cloth- Prompto had kept that thing on him all of the time. No status spell would work on him as long as he was wearing it. But that meant… "You just _pretended_ to be Mute back there?"

"I know, pretty crafty huh?" Prompto stashed the ribbon into his back pocket. "I wouldn't have known to fake it if you didn't cast that with an incantation, though, so thanks for that."

"You're welcome. So, what else did you do, play dead every time a battle got too hectic?"

"Hahaha, yeap! Works like a... well, like a _charm_. Why wouldn't it? You know how easy it is to take the heat off you when you don't look anywhere close to being a threat?"

He had a point there. Not looking like a threat was his entire shtick. That said, Gladio weighed his options. He couldn't try another status cast, nor could Prompto cast one on him if he couldn't learn it through affliction. They were both decent in elemental magic, and reached a stalemate with weapons.

Prompto beat him to coming up with a solution. "How about this? No magic, no weapons. Just you and me, _mano a mano_. Whaddya say?"

Gladio dismissed the greatsword. "You're taking the scenic route to an ass-kicking. Why wouldn't I accept? One thing's for sure; when this is over, you're coming with me."

Each flash of lightning took snapshots of them. Not as immortal as the modern counterpart, but the images would burn into the psyche just the same.

Prompto's already fair skin took on a ghostly pallor from the light, and shimmered from the rain pelting him. His hair was wild and wet and windswept. He pressed his feet firm to the ground. His right hand kept close to his chest, left hand out. With his solid stance, he vowed; though bend to the wind he might, he would not break. Not to the storm, and not to his opponent.

Gladio vowed the same when he took his stance.

They circled each other with slow sweeps of their feet, pacing like hands on a clock, minutes chasing hours, hours going opposite how they should. The distance closed, step by step, as fate drew them closer to the middle. The tips of their leading feet touched. They followed with a brief bump of the other's fist, like this was nothing but a friendly spar, though Gladio knew it'd be _anything _but that.

They parted, then. Bade their time.

Lightning served as the ring of the bell. The surroundings flashed to life. Prompto rushed forward in that instant and started with a right jab. Gladio blocked it and pushed it aside, and Prompto backed up as soon as it happened. Just _testing _him? Looked that way.

Another flash, and faster punches followed. Gladio parried, countered, was dodged just as quickly.

They started to circle each other again.

Whenever they met at the middle they punched, blocked, jabbed, parried, swiped. Matched each other well. Neither could land a hit on the other unless they took a risk. A matter of who would go first, then.

Prompto closed the distance and feinted a strike for Gladio's eyes. Then at the first sign of a block, he went for a takedown. He rushed about like a whirlwind, got his arms around the other's waist but moved so that he was behind him. Kicked at the back of his knees to knock him over forward, and followed that up with punches to the back of his head.

Gladio anticipated that, used his arms to protect himself, but he couldn't shield two places at once if Prompto wanted to go for his sides. He counted on the fact that Prompto was sitting on him, and threw all of his weight over to the side to make the guy fall over.

Prompto rolled away and sprung back to his feet. Gladio got up with a charge forward and swung at him. Though Prompto back-stepped out from the way of it, Gladio was persistent, got close again, and the next hook was a hairsbreadth from connecting. Prompto ducked under it, grabbed Gladio's arm like he'd try to vault him over. No, not yet. He sent a punch of his own just under Gladio's ribs. It connected, hard. He kept at it until he felt the other hunch forward as if his legs were about to give out, then hooked his arms behind one of Gladio's legs to knock him off balance and to the ground again.

Though Gladio was down, his other leg was free enough to kick. That kept any follow-up attacks at bay. Prompto relented again, put some space between them.

Gladio was sensing a pattern here, to make as big an understatement as possible. Prompto knew how to use his smaller size to his advantage. It wouldn't do any good to stress about not being taken down at all, though; distract himself with that, and the blond would probably land a shot to the head. Between landing on his back repeatedly and a concussion or worse, Gladio would choose the not-a-concussion option.

His opponent was good at takedowns, decent at grappling, anticipating things. Gladio couldn't help but wonder who Prompto learned these moves from. Ardyn didn't seem like the type to know them. Cor wasn't, either, for that matter. Mystery aside, there _had _to be a way to get him, though. And Gladio was thinking of one… but it would hurt a little. Probably. Depending on how he played this.

He got to his feet. Counted on Prompto trying to stop the next punch. Prompto did just that, went in and locked his right arm around Gladio's left to keep it still. Gladio went to knee him in the midsection next. Prompto stopped that with his left arm, kept it outstretched to force some space.

A seamless movement; hard to tell if it was Gladio that moved around Prompto's outstretched arm and circled to behind him first, or if it was Prompto that spun to keep that left arm locked. Whatever it was, he still had hold, dropped down to one knee and vaulted Gladio over him in a fluid motion.

Prompto grinned. "Got ya."

"You sure?"

Prompto didn't understand until he saw that Gladio's right hand was clenched around something.

The bandana.

The _ribbon._

"Give that back!" Prompto reached for it and earned himself a knee to the head. "F-_fuck_-" He let go and backed away, tried to get his bearings and recover from that hit.

Gladio took that chance to get back to his feet, though it seemed all those hits he suffered had their effect, to where he fumbled with his hands for a bit. He was fine when he got up, though.

"What's wrong, can't do anything without it?" He took some paces back, kept the ribbon dangling in the fingers of his left hand to challenge the other to take it.

"Shut up! Shut up!" He could hear a break in Prompto's voice. He almost felt for the guy. Almost. But he needed to do this in order to put some sense into him- or more appropriately, take it away.

He conjured a Fire spell and set the ribbon aflame.

Prompto cried as if _he _were burning, and charged forward to stop it. The next hit to the side of his head wasn't enough to knock him entirely out of balance but shook him up all the same. All he cared about was that the ribbon was gone in cinders and Gladio would pay for that.

Gladio grabbed him, but he slipped out of the hold and jabbed the swordsman in the gut, pure rage fueling his movements even if they were sloppier now. Climbed onto him and tried to choke him out. Gladio rewarded that with a hold on Prompto's arm and a fistful of shirt, then pulled him down and slammed him onto his back.

Prompto figured his mistake when he felt his arm get locked in a hold. A knee pressed to his ribs to keep him from moving. Leg locked around his head to isolate his limb. Gladio **pulled**. Pain flared out from Prompto's elbow. His forearm popped out of alignment, and an inhuman noise was torn out of him just as easily.

Gladio let go at the sound. That pain should have been enough to make Prompto stop.

It didn't. As soon as Prompto was free, he crawled away and put distance between them. His limb was twisted, useless, and turning an odd color.

That should've been enough. "Give up already!"

"And… and go back to you guys? I won't." The way Prompto said that sounded like _I can't. _"I'm… I'm as good as dead anyway. You… you've…"

As good as dead? He looked fine aside from his arm. What was he on about? Moreover, what would it take to make him change his mind? A worse beating? That couldn't happen. Gladio already promised to bring him back safe. This was already too far from that.

"I mean it," Gladio insisted. "Noct, and Iggy, they're waiting for you to come back."

"Tell 'em you never found me. Or… maybe they'll get the hint when they see whatever's left of you."

Prompto paced forward again, still intent on a fight. Intent, but his punches were slower. He couldn't guard anymore. Couldn't fight with only one good arm. Not while relying on his legs for support in this storm. But he'd try. He'd try, and Gladio hated that. That persistence made him wish he'd known how to properly cast Sleep. So much simpler if he'd learned that. Instead he had to settle for this; when Prompto tried to jab again with his good arm, he grabbed hold of it. He circled round, clinched him, then with a lift and sweeping kick, got Prompto off his feet to slam him into the ground, then pinned him.

Prompto couldn't break his fall. Pain lanced up his shoulder and along his sides. Involuntary whimpers crawled out from his lips when he felt more weight bear down upon him.

"We're done now. _You're _done." Gladio would think Prompto insane if he still insisted on this.

Sad to say he pretty much was. "Y-you haven't won yet… I'm… I'm still... " he breathed, but the rest of the words wouldn't come. His body began to shake from sobs. His breaths caught as if the words had tangled up into knots in his throat. Even then, he still managed a weak, "End it... for real- I, I mean it-"

"Damn it, Prompto, I'm not trying to kill you, and I'm not going to!" He knew if he did that, his shoulders would have to say goodbye to everything above it.

"_Please…_"

Gods, why did Prompto sound like that? Was the thought of having to answer to those he'd thought to betray so awful?

Gladio got his answer once he saw Prompto's body go chillingly still, and all the things he thought he knew about Prompto changed to something worse each second.

At first, the bruises started to look too _coherent_. Less cloudy and uncontrolled. Spread up his arm, along his neck in a network of main lines and branches, like lightning itself, just… _black_. Then the whites of Prompto's eyes were swallowed up by the same color. What blue was in his eyes turned purple. It occurred to Gladio that Prompto looked more daemon than man.

Any time Gladio thought things couldn't get worse, fate took it as a challenge. That, or fate had a fucked-up sense of humor.

Gladio had Prompto's good arm pinned down. That made the next bit confusing for him. Something **slammed **dead center into his chest and sent him clear away from the gunner-turned-daemon. He didn't hear what it was before it hit him, couldn't see it enough to dodge it. It wasn't like an Aeroga swept him away; this was force itself.

He got up to his feet just in time for a current of magic to surge up from beneath the earth and course through his feet. He tried to lift his foot on reflex to no avail; he was rooted to the ground, much like the trees around them. He only ever felt this stuck when he had the misfortune of trudging knee-deep in water at the same time Noctis would toss a Blizzara bomb into it for shits and giggles.

This wasn't like that. Again, he couldn't see what was holding him in place. "The hell is this?"

"Gravity." The next flash of lightning revealed an inhuman smirk and a viperous gleam in the eyes to match.

Prompto closed the meters-long distance between them with what might as well have been a single step and sent a palm strike to Gladio's stomach. Even a sledgehammer shot was softer than that. The same force from before radiated through the hit, and so did pain throughout the rest of Gladio's body. He left a ditch in the ground from his body skidding back.

Gladio struggled to breathe, watched Prompto stride towards him. But where he tried to catch his breath short of a physical attempt to claw the air into his mouth, the other approached with a sniper's calm, breaths slow and even, nowhere near as broken up as it was before his transformation, or whatever this was.

Prompto looked down to his dislocated forearm and put it back into position like the injury was a minor inconvenience to him, and Gladio could bet that his heart rate didn't raise a tick at any part of the process, not even in anticipation of pain. Could he even feel it anymore?

Even if not, he was _kind _enough to give Gladio a turn to grow well acquainted with the sensation. Pain exploded under Gladio's ribs each time Prompto's boot connected. And again. And again. Was the storm getting closer to them, or could he just not see anymore from the supernovas going off in his sides?

He hurled up a warm and metallic-tasting mess. Had barely enough strength left to crawl and did it blind. He got a few feet away and wondered when the other hits would come. He heard the short huffs of air, each one paced apart like the second-ticks of a clock. The realization came a little late that the daemon was watching him crawl on purpose and _laughing _about it, too. Daemons were usually mindless. This one had it in him to play with his food.

He was rolled over onto his side. There was pressure on his arm. Legs locked around his limb. He knew where this was going. Thankfully, the roar of thunder drowned him out as his arm was twisted in the same way he'd done to the blond earlier.

Gladio was let go, kicked onto his back, straddled, and pressed to mentally correct his earlier assessment. _This_ type had a capacity for _sadism_. Exactly that word. Gladio was sure of it, because he could feel that one pretty clearly, and wished he could unfeel it.

But maybe he wouldn't feel anything anymore. Prompto was getting ready to deal the finishing blow. Gladio pondered for a brief bit if he could just will himself to fade out before that hit connected; he'd had enough of this.

It didn't come. Not oblivion, and not the strike that would send him there.

Prompto had stopped. He held his fist high but wouldn't bring it down. Pain was etched in the furrow of his brows, the sharp breaths he'd take.

"Gladio…"

Prompto recognized him. Tried to speak again, "I… You should've…" but his words stopped short. He started to choke again, and his muscles seized up. Tears the color of tar ran down his face. He had enough control in him yet to crawl away from on top of Gladio so he didn't hurl that same tar on the guy, then he collapsed.

"Shit…" The hell happened to him? Gladio conjured a Hi-Potion and swallowed down just enough that it'd work at all. It burned on its way down like taking a glass of straight whisky, but he ignored that and the uncomfortable feel of places he didn't want to think about stitching themselves back together.

"Come on, I'm not losing you! Got my ass kicked too hard to let that go to waste by you dying on me!"

He said something else, too, something more. And maybe he was just hearing things, little auditory hallucinations to fill in the space between one thunder strike and the next, but it sounded as if Prompto responded as best as he could with a noise of recognition and not an actual word. But it was as good a sign as any that he was alive.

Gladio thanked the gods that he could still feel a pulse on the other to be sure; he was still breathing, still warm. No, more than warm. He tipped the bottle of Potion to Prompto's mouth and chilled it with a minor Blizzard spell. What liquid dribbled down the blond's throat convinced him to gulp it down on his own, and Gladio poured more until the bottle was finished.

He pried Prompto's eyelids apart long enough to check that his eyes were back to normal. Prompto didn't respond otherwise, but his breathing was fine. Like he was asleep.

Gladio made a note to self: next time they ever fought, he'd have to knock Prompto out as quickly as possible. Forget rules, forget a fair fight, and just hit him with a spell or something. Expecting him to give up on his own was too damn much to ask for.

* * *

Prompto stirred awake, and blinked away the blur in his vision while his surroundings see-sawed back and forth before his eyes. He saw a mess of black beside him, vaguely humanoid. Recognition settled in him and tension shot through his every nerve. He tried to scramble to an upright position, but all he could manage were twitches.

Gladio didn't take his eyes off of him. "You're awake. That's good."

"Where the fuck am I?" This wasn't the motel, from what Prompto could see. Everything was wood, for one.

"Found a nice, empty cabin here in the forest. Abandoned."

Prompto's breathing picked up as he struggled further. His body wouldn't respond; like he was chained down but couldn't see the restraints. "Why can't I move?"

His vision cleared enough for him to see that Gladio held the nullifying ribbon in his right hand.

"Immune to status effects with it, a lot more susceptible without it," the swordsman said, more to himself than anything.

_Another_ ribbon? It didn't make any sense. Prompto only ever had the one. "That... can't be right," he whispered. "I- I saw it burn up…"

"You're right, except for the part where you're not." Gladio conjured up a regular handcloth in his left hand, closed his fist around it, and when he opened it back up, it was a replica of the bandana and the ribbon hidden beneath it. "I used Vanish on the real one," he motioned with his right hand, "and burned up a Decoy." He motioned with his left.

So _that _was what Prompto had seen. "Fuck… I really fell for that…"

"Hmph. You were supposed to, that was the point." A sharp exhale of air followed. "I thought you'd stop if I could beat you, and I couldn't do that until I got you to lose your composure. I figured the ribbon was important since you never took it off… didn't realize _how_ important it was."

"Well, now you know. So, why can't I move?"

"A Paralyze spell. Based it off of the way you used Gravity on me, except instead of just the legs, I used this on your whole body. Minus your head, of course, since I'll need you to talk on account of you can't use your hands."

"Crafty. … What do you want now?"

"Answers. I wanna know what the hell happened back there. Specifically the part where you _could've_ killed me, but you didn't. You hesitated."

"No… I didn't hold back. You were… you just got the better of me, that's all."

"Bullshit."

Prompto averted his gaze, though he knew it wouldn't stop the questions from coming.

And Gladio _would_ still insist on this. "You had every chance. Why didn't you take any of them?"

"... Because he needs you."

Noctis. Even as far gone as Prompto thought he was, he was still thinking of Noctis.

Gladio's gaze narrowed. "He needs you, too."

"No he doesn't. I'm…"

"His _friend_, jackass."

"As long as I'm convenient, I guess." A bitter laugh drummed out of the blond's chest and carried an ache with it that made him wince. "Everyone else that's tried to be my friend… as soon as they saw the real me, they'd leave. What makes Noct so different?"

"He wouldn't do that."

"Heard the same thing from people before. They'd ditch me all the same, because I'm not like them. And I'm not like any of you either. That's just how it is. That's how it's always been." Prompto shook his head, and tried to blink back the tears that were forming on his violet-blue eyes. "Why do you care, anyway? You know what you need to do, so do it. You wanna protect Noct? Then-"

"_No_."

The refusal stilled the blond for a moment. "You _should_. You already know what I am."

"Yeah, I do. You're _sick._ But since you're _so sure_ of what you really are, answer this. What kind of 'monster' would want to _stop_ being one, to the point where they'd rather die before they ever turned into one?" With a flicker of crystal shards, Gladio summoned a pill bottle from the warp space. He'd found it earlier when he was looking for the handcloth to use as a decoy ribbon.

Prompto's look darkened when he saw the bottle. "Give that back."

"I will. How long has this been going on?"

The look didn't waver, while Prompto considered how to answer. "As long as I can remember."

"And that… whatever that was that came over you… it's happened before?"

"Once or… twice before. But it's hazy."

"It only comes out when you're in trouble."

"... Yeah."

_But you'd still rather die than defend yourself that way. _Gladio thought it, but didn't say it. He took a contemplative look at the ribbon in one hand and the pill bottle in the other. A ward for negative status effects. Turning into a pseudo-daemon was about as negative as things could get, outside of being dead. Medicine, for the same thing.

It was starting to come together. The way he understood it, whatever weird-ass disease it was that Prompto had, was one he was trying to keep in check for as long as possible, by any means he had available to him. In the meantime, he vaulted headfirst into the nihilistic Death Goddess nonsense because if worse came to worst and he couldn't be fixed, _he _figured he'd either die or be killed sooner rather than later anyhow. And if he sided with Ardyn, it would be easier on his friends to say good riddance to a traitor than goodbye to someone they cared about.

So, _this_ is what Ardyn saw in Prompto. An outcast whose life was marked as different from the beginning, whose role in proper society wasn't set since birth because of something he couldn't control, leaving him on an uncertain path. In a place where everyone else knew where and _who_ they needed to be, the one that didn't was malleable in comparison, easy to win over. Because as much as he hated the rigidity of the world, he still wanted to belong to it, and if there wasn't a place for him, he would carve one out. He just needed to think it was something he chose to do, in the end.

Gladio tied the ribbon back around Prompto's arm, then handed the bottle to him. "Don't miss a dose."

Prompto's immobility went away bit by bit, until he had enough sensation in his arm to take the bottle and stash it away himself. "Don't have to tell me twice."

"Good, wouldn't want to anyway. So whatever _this _is you've got… Lunafreya might be able to fix it."

"What… you really think she can?" He pulled himself up so that he was seated.

"She's the Priestess for a _reason_. The Fleurets can heal just about anything as long as it's still breathing, just ask Noct. You can doubt the _gods _however much you want, but if you doubt what _Luna's _capable of, I might actually kick your ass and spare Noct the trouble of doing it himself. But then tell him about it anyway just so he puts in the extra effort."

Prompto pretend-flinched and raised his hands in mock defense on top of that. "Okay, I believe you." But his mouth still tightened to a tense line, and he lowered his hands to his sides. "How do you even know you can trust me, after all this?"

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm saying you're a dumbass, Gladio. I'm saying I'm…" a harsh inhale, and Prompto found his words. "I'm not worth all this."

Gladio huffed. "Quit it with the doom and gloom shit. It's getting annoying."

"Make me."

There were some things about Prompto that Gladio could _swear _he'd have called bullshit on if he'd ever read it on paper or heard it described without ever knowing the guy. Like how he came off so unassuming and cloud-headed, but the set of his jaw and the severity in his gaze gave the impression that he'd level a mountain with his hands if it didn't get out of his way fast enough; how his hair looked at first glance like it'd be downy to the touch and reminiscent of chocobo feathers, but it was equally likely it'd sear anyone for having the audacity to get too close, for the same reason no one stuck their hands into an open flame; how being close to him was as likely to bring comfort as it was to court misfortune.

It shouldn't have worked out. One side should have been false. But as Gladio got close, enough to hear the way Prompto's breath caught, he realized, he believed them both. And this, too, was true; that what he did then meant nothing more than what it was, and meant everything even beyond it.

If the wind howled outside, all he heard were whispers. If the thunder crashed, he heard plinks. Whatever storm was out there didn't matter. Just the blond in his grasp, lips so soft they reminded him of ripe figs in the late summer, and they were just as tempting to bite. He could feel the last traces of tiny cuts along Prompto's fingers, and either the guy bit his nails a lot or he just never took the time to file them after trimming. Still, his hands were soft, whereas Gladio knew his own were rough and calloused, too lived-in in comparison, but that didn't matter either; their fingers fit perfectly when intertwined with each other.

When Gladio pulled away, maybe it was just his imagination but he could swear he heard a whine of protest. But Prompto still let him go, and allowed him to settle back in his seat.

Prompto's eyes drifted open as if from a long sleep. "Is that why…?"

"No, it isn't. I just did that because I wanted to."

"Oh." The blond licked his lips. He wasn't going to _say _he was savoring the kiss, but that was exactly what he was doing.

"I meant what I said, though. We need you around. But if it helps any, then ..." Gladio paused and let his eyes wander the ceiling planks as he thought of just how to word this. "That whole sickness thing? Ardyn told us about it while you were in the caravan last night."

Prompto tensed up. "But I never told him I had it. How did he…?"

Gladio disguised the chill that crawled up his spine with a single-shoulder shrug. "He made a good guess. He seems to know a lot of things we don't. The thing is, he told us to make sure you didn't get too sick. Said it'd be bad for all of us. Not believing him at this stage doesn't sound like a good idea. So… we're gonna do all we can, and that involves getting you to Luna."

Prompto laughed, and Gladio couldn't tell if he actually meant to laugh or if it was an attempt to stave off a cry. Whatever it was, he took his leave of the bed and checked that he had everything in order, though he took his time with it.

"I collected some water for you to clean yourself up. S'on the table."

"Thanks." Prompto went over to the basin that was there and washed his face of whatever grime he had left, though his cheek stung from a hit that hadn't healed completely. The potion prioritized the worse of his wounds and left some things to nature. Sure. That was fine.

He cast a quick glance over his shoulder to be sure of where Gladio was. Let the silence linger between them for a bit before the next words chased them off.

"Can't believe you got a big ol' crush on little ol' me." The unmistakable note of mischief tinged every letter of his words.

"Huh? No. _Hell_ no."

"Nah, of course not. You _lo-_"

"If you don't want me to grab your gun and shoot you with it, I suggest you quit yapping." But it didn't take long for him to relent. "It slipped out."

"Heat of the moment? Last chance you'd ever get kind of thing?"

"...You could say that."

"Thought that's what it was." The smile was so obvious, Gladio could hear it in the way Prompto spoke. The fact that he turned around to face Gladio made obvious what the other already knew. "Be honest, now. You probably thought about what I'd be saying if we got it on, huh? '_Oh, Gladdy, you're sooo~ good_,' or something like that?"

Gladio pondered the wording. "You're close, but instead of calling me '_Gladdy_', you'd be saying something else."

Prompto frowned. "I'd call you '_Gladio_' like I usually do?"

"Not quite. A little more in the _other_ direction."

There was a pause for thought, and then in sunk in. "... _Oh. _Dude, that's naughty, even for me."

Gladio's look could almost rival Prompto's in deviousness. "You sure? 'Cause I'm willing to bet you _would_ call me that if you were turned on enough."

Prompto opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and closed it.

It was quiet again. But it was an odd thing, this silence. It just begged for something to fill it.

Gladio found that he couldn't resist the question. "So, what is he to you, anyway?"

"Who, Ardyn?"

"Mmhm."

"Oh, it's obvious isn't it?" Prompto said flatly. "He's my sugar daddy. I was actually hoping you guys would crash at the motel room so while you all slept, I'd sneak out, rendezvous with him and I'd get a good dicking with hats off."

Gladio gave Prompto a look that said all it needed to.

Prompto raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd buy that."

"You must think I was born yesterday."

The laugh sounded more genuine than before, this time. "I guess I should tell you the truth then, even if it is weird. I've never met him before, but I feel like I know him from somewhere. And… the way you made it sound, he's kind of like a -" another laugh jumped out of him - "a guardian angel, or something."

Gladio wouldn't have considered 'guardian angel' and 'Ardyn' as two things that belonged on the same _continent, _much less the former being used to describe the latter in anything approaching the same sentence. But he had to concede that the term fit, given what lengths Ardyn had gone to to protect Prompto.

Prompto turned his head this way and that. He sought something, and the search led him to the window where he peered out past the glass. "When did all the thunder and lightning stop?"

… When _did _it? Gladio himself hadn't noticed the storm had receded until it was pointed out. "Dunno. At least that means it's safe for us to leave here. The others should be looking for us, if they haven't already done that and missed us."

The two of them stepped out to a clearer night sky within their view, with the vestiges of the storm soaked into the earth or left adrip from the trees. Prompto emptied out the basin and put it back where it belonged.

Gladio waited until he returned, then mused, "Huh. And you were doubting the Fulgurian was still around."

Prompto sucked his teeth. "Storms happen sometimes. That's nothing special."

They made their way around singed branches and fallen halves of trees, and soon heard voices, saw lights in the distance.

"_Gladio? You out here?_" Noctis called out. He sounded confident that his friend was safe, even if unknown.

"_Prompto, where are you?_" Ignis sounded more concerned.

Prompto began to run in the direction of the light. "Iggy, Noct! We're-" he made a show of tripping over a shrub in excitement, though he got back to his feet and into view of the two. "We're here! We're okay!"

Ignis spotted him first, then dimmed the light to a more tolerable level. Once he and Noctis reached Prompto, he got closer yet and pulled him into a tight embrace as if to be sure he wasn't imagining this. "Thank the gods." The relief in the retainer was palpable.

"You're welcome." The smugness in the prince was similarly felt, but a quick **thwap **to his head made him consider revising that tone. And consider it, he did, only to opt _against_ making any correction. "Technically, with the Landforger's power inside me, I _am_ kind of a god."

"You're an egotistical pain in the ass, is what you are."

Noctis grinned at Ignis anyway, and took Prompto's hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. His expression brightened yet when his trusted Shield came out from the cover of darkness as well, and he released his hold on Prompto's hand to take Gladio's in the same way. "I knew we could count on you."

He looked so proud, so _happy, _that Gladio couldn't help trying to match it with his own smile.

"I wouldn't be too sure." Ignis's words broke them out of their reverie, and when they turned to look, the adviser was tenderly stroking at the mark on Prompto's cheek, the one that hadn't healed yet. The ire burned in Ignis's gaze, and were his accusation a living thing, it would have leapt out of him and went right for Gladio's throat to gouge the Shield where he stood. "What did you do to him?"

Words failed. Gladio didn't know what to say to that. He couldn't be honest about what had happened; what he'd found out wasn't his secret to tell. He supposed if Prompto was quiet about his condition to the others, and he wasn't going to leap to Ardyn's side as long as there was still hope that Luna could heal him for good, then the issue was settled.

"Wait, Iggy…" Prompto took Ignis's hand in his, drawing the retainer's attention away from the supposed culprit. "It's okay. It's not his fault. I just… got carried away, almost caught a whole daemon claw with my face. Could've been a lot worse than this, but he saved me, y'know. I owe him big time."

Ignis glanced at Gladio, still a tad disbelieving, but his friend's words were more pressing. "Why did you run away at all?"

"I wasn't thinking straight," Prompto said with a shake of his head, and his gaze wandered along the ground as if he were nervous at how his explanation would sound. "I just felt… like I could be doing more for you guys, carrying my own weight instead of being the load. He tried to stop me from leaving, told me I didn't have to prove anything to anybody, but I … I didn't want you guys to see me as weak."

"In that case, he's right. You _don't_ have to prove your worth to us. You're _not _weak. You do enough for us as it is. More than you need to," Ignis insisted.

"You think so?"

The retainer nodded, and earned a tight hug.

"You're the best." Prompto whispered.

Ignis smirked. "Oh, you're just finding out now? I thought that was obvious."

That got a laugh. "Ah, knew the warm and tender stuff from you wouldn't last."

At that point, Noctis leaned closer to Gladio and whispered, "and the guy says _I'm_ full of myself."

"To be fair, he's right about that one."

Noctis gasped in mock offense. "Whose side are you on? I thought you were supposed to protect me!"

"Oh, I know. Sometimes that means calling you out once or twice." He got a playful punch to the shoulder for that.

"Asshole. Maybe I should make good on what I said earlier and just have Titan be my Shield. You can run along and do whatever."

"That was out of line when you first said it, and it's out of line now too."

"I'm still your boss, and I can still get away with it."

"Whatever it is you decide to do," Ignis cut in, "I suggest you hold off on it until I've said my piece." And for that, he locked eyes with Gladio and gave a nod of acknowledgment. "Thank you, for keeping Prompto safe."

Gladio waved a hand to dismiss that, though he appreciated it all the same. "Aw, Iggy, you're about to make me blush."

The stern look turned into an unimpressed frown in record time. "This is the fastest I've ever reconsidered having said anything in my life."

"No takesies backsies, Iggy. You've already thanked him," Prompto chimed in.

"And that's as good a voucher as any for Gladio to stay with us," Noctis added. "I mean, why_ wouldn't_ I keep proof that you were wrong about something?"

Ignis couldn't look any more offended if someone smacked his heretofore nonexistent puppy. "We should head back. _Now._"

The others didn't need to be told twice, and were happy to go back to the motel with Ignis taking the lead as if he'd outpace his regret that way. They returned to their shared room in relative quiet, and while they were preparing to rest, Noctis spoke up.

"Y'know, I don't think we'd have found you guys if we'd left the motel earlier. It all worked out in a weird way."

Prompto tilted his head and let out a curious hum. "Why? What stopped you? Aside from the…" he gestured to the air above them.

Noctis laughed and pointed to the side of his own head. "A really bad headache. Like the ones I got from Titan. Kept me down until the worst of the storm was over. If I didn't know any better, I'd say the Stormsender himself was telling me to wait it out- that you two would be fine even if we didn't hurry. So at least this means he's nearby. We can find him next."

"Oh… sounds like a plan." Prompto nodded.

Noctis nodded back, and laid down to go to sleep. When he wasn't looking, Gladio got Prompto's attention and signed, _Told you._

Prompto responded with a different kind of sign that needed just one specific finger on his hand to do, and he used both fingers for extra emphasis. Gladio kept his amusement to a low chuckle.


End file.
